Lochóros
by Anime PJ
Summary: It's been about two months since my Trigger Event and I'm being moved out to Brockton Bay to live with my uncle. A city infested with supervillains, some of the worst humanity has to offer, is the perfect place for me. Evil must be punished. I will never compromise in this, not even in the face of Armageddon. OC/Taylor


**I recently got into _Worm_ and I can tell you with exact precision at what point I decided I was definitely writing this story. Arc 2 Chapter 4. The bullying aspect had me wanting to punch one of those bitches in the face from the start (I don't care that they're girls – people like that need a decking). But that chapter, what that cunt Emily pulled, is what solidified the existence of this story. I've also been reading the _Watchmen_ graphic novel, which I got for Christmas, so don't be surprised that my OC here seems to be channelling Rorschach.**

 **OC/Taylor is the pairing. She needs some happiness.**

 **Going by my usual writing style, there's likely to be some crossover elements. Seeing as this is a superhero story, I've got plenty of potential crossovers to choose from.**

 **Welcome to _Lochóros_!**

 **Let's begin.**

* * *

I Take Up the Mask in Brockton Bay

It was a relief to be off the plane. Spending so much time in a tin can that was being fired at several thousand miles an hour full of other people's farts had always been something I had an aversion to. But just lately, I had also started to consider spending so much time cooped up with what was, by all statistical likelihood, human waste left a bad feeling in the pit of my belly. Looking around the streets these days, it was easy to peg a lot of the people on this plane as the type who would watch the shitshow that is the news and say the things shown are awful but would never do anything to help the people who went through these things. The streets are an extended gutter full of the blood of the innocent and when the drains finally scab over, all of the vermin will drown. Then all the people who sit around doing nothing about the world, all the scum, all the criminals, all the people who make lives a living hell either through inaction or through committing actions intentionally meant to hurt, they'll look up and shout "Save us!"

And I'll whisper "No."

I dragged my luggage behind me as I walked through the airport, trying my best to ignore all the pushing and shoving of the people around me. My Chemical Romance flooded through my earphones to drown out the noise pollution.

My luggage, my one suitcase with wheels (I had more, but it had all been brought over in advance), had a pleasant mental weight to it as I dragged it behind me. The knowledge of what was sitting at the bottom brought a genuine smile to my face. I had put myself to the test back in England and been relatively successful. Now here I was, entering a city that was in the top 10 for Cape activity in the States.

I am Sebastian Jackson by day only.

By night … Well, you'll see.

Shouting to me would have been pointless even without the earphones in. The noise in airports is always toxic, I challenge you to say otherwise. That's why they have people holding up signs. Speaking of which, after a brief look around the place, I found one with my name on it.

I could tell the man holding the sign up was my Uncle Oscar at a glance. He had my father's low eyebrows and squared jaw, plus those small blue eyes which I shared with both of them. His hair, on the other hand, was a deep red rather than the black my dad had. Uncle Oscar had won the lottery a few years back and moved out to the US, as my dad used to tell it, though Brockton Bay wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, he was glad for the change. He was lucky enough to live in the part of town that wasn't full of supervillains, but I imagine the place was a wretched hive of scum and villainy, all the same.

I walked over to him and tried my best to smile. I imagine it looked as artificial as it felt. I didn't have that much to smile about these days. I pulled my earphones out as I approached. The noise assaulted my ears instantly.

"Uncle Oscar," I said flatly. Emoting is such a struggle that I didn't even _try_ to fake it anymore.

"Sebastian?" asked Uncle Oscar.

"You expecting another lanky sixteen-year-old?"

He gave a short laugh. "Yep, that'll be you, Little Bastian." His laughter stopped abruptly and he awkwardly coughed into his fist. "Uh … It's, um, good to see you." _Even though your parents are dead._ The words went unspoken, but I heard them in his tone.

"It's good to see you, too."

He licked his lips uncomfortably. "Oh! D'you need a hand with your bag?"

"Nah, I got it. Thanks."

Uncle Oscar led me over to his car, which was nice enough but nothing particularly special. I shoved my case in the back and climbed into the front passenger seat – it was odd having to climb in the right side to be a passenger.

Uncle Oscar spoke up as he turned the key in the ignition. "How've you been keeping since, uh …"

"Since mum and dad died?" I finished for him. I shrugged. "About as good as can be expected, I guess."

We started driving.

"They told me you ran away. Spent some time on the streets, got all freaked out. You … you were alright, yeah?"

 _Warm, sticky blood on my hand as I plunged what appeared to be a glass blade into my would-be assaulter's throat._

"It was rough, but I came out of it okay."

We lapsed into silence for about fifteen minutes.

Then Uncle Oscar spoke again. "Your mum and dad, they, uh, they may have had their problems … their major, _major_ problems … but they loved you a lot."

"I know." That was the most honest thing I'd said since the plane landed.

"Look, I'm not too good at this sort of thing," said Uncle Oscar. "But I … I want to make you comfortable while you're living here. I know you've probably heard some bad things about this town, but as long as you stay away from certain parts of town, you should be okay. Now, I appreciate that you're going through a hard time, but that doesn't mean we can let your education slip. You're gonna be starting school on Monday."

It was Saturday. "That's fine," I said.

Uncle Oscar nodded. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other."

Conversation cut off entirely from there and I was left staring out the window as Uncle Oscar drove the car through the streets of Brockton Bay. It was easy to see why it was in the top 10 for Cape activity in the US. For the supervillains, it was a city ripe for the picking, full of people, full of scum willing to follow them. Right by the ocean, too, so it was the optimum location for smuggling. From my research, I managed to gather that the docks go mostly unused because of all the villain activity down there. For the superheroes, it was so full of the vileness of humanity that they'd likely never run out of work down here. It was a vicious cycle which benefited both sides of the war between the darkness and the light.

It's the perfect place for someone like me.

Though that comes with its own set of problems. I didn't know if I'd be able to hold myself back from letting loose on the vermin if I encountered them during the daylight hours.

At night … I could let loose without worry.

The car pulled to a stop outside a decently-sized house. Without being told, I unbuckled my seatbelt, got out, and grabbed my suitcase from the back of the car. Uncle Oscar was unlocking the door when I walked up. He opened the door and we walked into the house. I didn't pay much attention to the insides, I'll be honest – it made next to no difference to me what the aesthetics were. I just needed to know whether I could get in and out quietly during the night. Seeing that the place was relatively well-maintained, it didn't look like there was anything in here that would make too much noise as I entered and exited the house.

I was brought out of my thoughts by the shaking of keys. Uncle Oscar was holding some out in front of me.

"I know what you teenagers are like, so I won't stop you going in and out," he said. "But not past midnight, alright? This is a rough city."

"Cheers, Uncle Oscar," I said, taking the offered keys.

"It's okay. Now, let's get that case to your room."

A smile tugged at the corners of my lips as we went upstairs. I was looking forward to seeing my bedroom. I considered my room back home my inner-sanctum, my happy place, the only place in all the world where I had complete control of everything that went on. It was a place of comfort and I have precious few places like that.

I followed Uncle Oscar into the room and was not disappointed.

It was a fair enough size, not too big and not too small, with wallpaper pattered like dark bricks with a feature wall that had a bookcase pattern on it. Against that wall was an actual bookcase which had all the books that had been brought over with my other things before I myself came over. On that wall, there was also mounted a flat-screen television, about forty inches, which was fine by me. Other than that, the bed and the wardrobe were both good. All in all, it was a very serviceable area.

My smile widened as I looked around.

Uncle Oscar saw my expression and smiled. "You like it?"

"Yeah, it's nice, it's good," I said. I hoisted my case onto the bed. "It's really nice, Uncle Oscar."

"Good to know you like it, Bastian." He clapped once. "Well, I'll get the tea on, eh? Give you a chance to settle in while it's cooking."

"Okay, then. Be down in a bit."

He gave me one last smile before leaving the room.

I closed the door quietly and then unzipped my case. It was all clothes, really, which is why it made my costume so easy to hide. I took the clothes out, unfolded them, and hung them on coat-hangers in the wardrobe. I got to the bottom and looked at what was in the bottom with more fondness than was probably normal.

 _Tomorrow night,_ I promised myself privately. _Tomorrow night, Brockton Bay is going to start having its filth removed in a more permanent fashion._

* * *

Midnight. Sunday.

This was the time I had promised myself I would go out and that's what I intended to do. I stood in front of the full-length mirror on the inside of my wardrobe door and looked at my chosen attire.

It was edgy, there was no other way of putting it. It was also pretty minimalistic. I wasn't really going to aesthetic, I'll admit, but I still felt a bit cheap wearing it. It was pretty much a suit without a tie – black shoes and trousers, a white button-down shirt, and a dark grey trench-coat after that. I wasn't done yet, though. Sighing over the way it looked, I pulled a white morph mask over my face and threw a dark grey fedora on over it. The only thing about this I actually needed to hide was the mask unless anything got damaged or bloodstained, so there was that.

Still, looking like an incognito Slender Man wasn't exactly ideal.

 _It's only temporary,_ I told myself. _Until I can manage to sustain the armour on my entire body. Just bear with it, Sebastian._

I knew Uncle Oscar was asleep by now. I'd listened out and pegged him going to bed a couple of hours before, and if what dad always told me about him being a heavy sleeper was true, then I had nothing to worry about. I exited my bedroom slowly, carefully, and made my way down the stairs. Not a creak. I suppose I was lucky the house was so well-kept. I didn't waste time; I walked straight for the front door, unlocked it, stepped out, and locked it, storing the keys away in a pocket inside my coat which had a zip on it.

From there, I got to walking. I wasn't concerned about being seen out like this as long as no one saw the house I was coming in and out of. Brockton Bay was infamous for its Cape activity – not quite as infamous as Gotham, but nowhere was quite as infamous as that – so it wasn't like seeing me walking down the street was going to cause a major fuss. The most I'd get is people thinking _Hey, look, new supervillain!_ Wrong. But I don't really care what people think I am.

There wasn't much distance between the nice part of town and the shitty part of town.

As much as I didn't care about regular Joes seeing me, as I crossed over into the filth-covered part of town which anyone could tell was crooked at a glance, I decided that I would probably have more success if the scumbags didn't see me coming down the middle of the road. I veered off to the right and into an alleyway where I hoped I might find a fire escape. I did. I walked up, letting out little grunts by the halfway point because it was tiring me out a bit until I reached the roof. From there, I started walking again.

The first building was connected, so I just stepped on over. The second had a bit of a gap before it, so I had to take a jump.

There was a surprising lack of people out and about, I saw. Given this city's reputation, I was expecting this place to be full of murderers, rapists, and crack peddlers, but there wasn't a soul to be seen. I didn't like it. It gave me a bad feeling in the pit of my gut. _Have I started on a day where shit's going down?_

The train of thought was cut off when I caught a _lot_ of movement from the corner of my eye.

It wasn't people, though.

It looked like the ground itself was moving in little waves. Curious and confused, I bent down to get a closer look. It wasn't the _ground_ moving. It was _insects_. No, not insects, but bugs in general. There were cockroaches, spiders (I even pegged one or two black widows, which was bizarre in and of itself), bees, wasps, the works. Even the flying ones were crawling along the ground in the same direction as the others. It was almost as if they were actively trying to be discreet and stealthy.

 _There's someone with a Master-class power around here,_ I concluded. _That's the only reason bugs would be moving like this. Looks like someone's getting ready for something, but what?_

Curiosity got the better of me in the end. I started to go in the same direction as the bugs. Someone was getting ready for a fight if the number of bugs being called was anything to go by. Whoever was controlling the bugs likely knew I was here by now. The research I'd done on Master-class powers indicated that the Cape with the power could feel with the senses of what they were controlling. Maybe the number of bugs would cause a sensory overload or something, but I doubted it. Nevertheless, something was going down and I wanted to see what it was. If I saw an opportunity to get rid of some bad rubbish, well, then it would all work out for the better, wouldn't it?

I jumped to another building, this one much taller, and grabbed onto the drainpipe. I climbed up it as silently as I could manage.

The building I was on was a pretty good vantage point as it turned out. Looking down, I saw a congregation of Asian men. I'd done my research on the gangs of Brockton Bay, so I immediately identified them as the Azn Bad Boys (or ABB). On that logic, I took the big, shirtless guy with the dragon tattoos and the metal dragon mask to be Lung, their leader. He was a mysterious bastard. Online, all I could gather is that he can gradually transform during a fight and he has a certain amount of pyrokinesis. Not a lot to go on.

I couldn't believe my luck.

They were speaking, but I couldn't hear them. I brought my hands up to my ears, which were covered in the mask tight enough that fiddling with my earphones wasn't difficult. The earphones were Tinker tech – something that was mass-produced by a Tinker back home who chose not to go the Cape route in life – and wireless, so I could just stick them in my ears. They were also designed to amplify sounds that one wouldn't normally be able to hear, like a private conversation in a dark alley, for instance.

"… the children, just shoot," Lung snarled at his gathered followers. "Doesn't matter your aim, just shoot. You see one lying on the ground? Shoot the little bitch once more to be sure. We give them no chances to be clever or lucky, understand?"

I near enough exploded out in anger when I heard they were planning on killing children, but I paused. _Children? Around_ here _? No, no, that can't be right, he's talking about something else. Children … children … A rival gang or something made up of younger guys, probably teenagers, that's what I can gather. But still, this criminal fuck has got one bloody-ass record. I can't just let him and his cronies walk out of this, even if they're only going to be scattering the brains of a few more scumbags._

Plus, there was always the possibility that I was wrong in my assumptions.

I didn't think it was likely, but even I'm not cold-hearted enough to gamble the lives of children.

 _Maybe if I just jump in and take them by surprise, they won't have time to think to go for their guns. I can't sustain the armour for very long and even then, I can't get it 'round my whole body yet. This could be risky …_

Deciding _Fuck it_ , I was about to put my admittedly flimsy plan into action when the bugs that I had been trailing to get here all went nuts at once. They all swarmed and ran downwards, into the alley, right for Lung and the ABB members. The already dark alley was obscured entirely as the cloud of bugs went on the attack.

 _I … I guess I'm not the only one watching this …_ I looked around slowly. _But where the hell …?_

I spotted her. She was on a roof just across from me. She was wearing a black and grey bodysuit made from some kind of silk. There were armour panels in various places. Her mask covered everything but her long, dark hair, which was curly and flowing down her back. The eyes were tinted orange lenses. I had to give her credit, her costume's colours were dark enough that she could traverse the night relatively stealthily if nobody shone a light on her.

 _But is she out fighting criminals or is she just taking out a rival gang member?_ I wondered. _I guess I'll just have to ask her. But … she seems to be giving them a run for their money._

That's what I thought until the fire became visible through the swarm of insects.

As the bugs died, I could see that Lung had his hands in the air and was blasting fire out through them. More bugs joined in the fray – these ones looking a lot more venomous than the ones sent in before – and all of them went straight for Lung himself. Even from up here, I could see the metal scale-like plates that were growing out of his skin. So this was what his transformation looked like when it got started.

And that's when Lung set himself on fire.

It was like an explosion. Fire pushed out from where Lung was in just about every direction. He even lit one of his own gang on fire. Pretty much all the bugs around him died in an instant, and I could see him much more clearly. He did not look like a happy man. Then he exploded again, and what few of his gang members remained all ran for it. Smart guys. All of Lung's clothes were fucked at this point and about a third of his body seemed to be covered in those metal scales.

 _So, pyrokinetic_ and _fireproof,_ I mused as I looked down at him. _It's amazing what you can't learn online._

Lung roared out in what I can only assume was rage. I caught lights coming on in a few of the houses in the area. People were getting excited and trying to watch.

 _That's right, watching it all unfold, you parasites,_ I thought. _Nobody call the police or the Protectorate or do literally_ anything _that might put an end to a bad situation. Just look out the windows and watch like the gawking fools you are._

Lung kept on flinging fire at the bugs that came at him. There were significantly fewer now.

Then Lung exploded in fire and screamed in rage.

Then he lit himself on fire, head to toe, not bothering to explode it outwards this time. He hunched over. Then it was almost like the two sides of his back pushed out from his body, leaving a valley-like gap between them, with the inside of the gap plus the extended halves of his back growing scales at a rate so fast that it was almost like they were simply appearing there. I could've sworn he got a foot or so taller, too.

A few tense seconds ran by.

Then Lung turned toward the building the Cape was on and roared again.

I looked at her. She had been moving for the fire escape. Lung had heard her. He started to climb his way up the building. Well, that's an understatement – he jumped from his side of the street right to the second floor of the building and started to climb from there.

 _Now would be a really good time to step in,_ I thought.

Taking a little running start, I jumped from my higher vantage point, landed on the building with the bug-girl, and rolled to get rid of the momentum of the landing. I immediately stood to my full height and looked at bug-girl.

"Quite a show you put on," I said in a gravelly, Americanised voice. I'd been practising it. "But you seem to have pissed him off."

I called upon my powers. I felt a gathering in both my hands. That's the best way I can think of to describe it: a gathering. I was literally pulling in the space around me to create a physical object in my hands.

Spatial constructs, that's my power.

In my hands appeared a pair of long knives that looked almost like they were made of glass, but not quite. While the outside certainly looked glassy, there was a strange distortion within them that gave the appearance of distortion, or perhaps vibration. It was constantly blurred and constantly seemed to be in motion. That's why I wanted to be able to create armour out of it, something which I was currently only able to do on one body part at a time and not for long so that I could literally use my power to create my costume.

"I should warn you," I said to bug-girl, "I've never tried to use these on someone who can grow armour on their body before, so there's no guarantee this'll get through."

"Wha—" bug-girl tried to ask. "B-But who …?"

"Introductions later. Fight now."

Lung's flaming hands grabbing the edge of the building was the first sign that he was here. There were long, metal claws where his nails used to be. As he hauled himself up, I saw that he had one eye closed – maybe bug-girl had gotten one of her bees or wasps to take one of his eyes out. Clever girl. His other eye looked like it was made of liquid metal, so it would still be soft in spite of the smouldering heat it was likely giving off. I scanned his body to find any places that might be left without armour and was disappointed. The scales were thinner in some places, but they were there all the same.

"G-Go for the eyes," said bug-girl. "He regenerates, so it won't be permanent."

"I know. Shame."

I could tell that my disappointment shocked her even though I wasn't looking.

Lung was still climbing onto the roof when I ran toward him. I didn't yell or anything you might expect when running toward someone with a pair of knives, I just swung. Turns out, I got unlucky. He saw me coming with his one functioning eye and grabbed my arm as I slashed at him. The fire burned and singed, and I gritted my teeth against the pain. I swung my other arm around to stab the other knife into his arm. The scales kept the knife from slicing right through, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover that I had pierced Lung's flesh if only a little bit. About a quarter of the knife sank into his scaled arm, and he yelled out.

A solid _whack_ to my chest from Lung's free arm sent me flying halfway across the roof. I imagine I would have gone further if he had been putting conscious effort into it.

Still feeling a burn, I looked down at my chest and saw the front of my coat had caught fire where Lung had hit me. I whacked at it with my hands and it went out, but then I caught notice that my left arm was on fire, too, with the only exception being my hand. I rolled over and onto it to put it out. It worked.

I rolled back over and saw Lung stalking toward me.

 _Shit._

That's when bug-girl came running around and sprayed something in Lung's one working eye.

He reared away with a shout and clutched at his eye. That didn't last long, though. He turned around and glared at bug-girl, then at me, then back at her. He was shaking, though it was hard to tell because of the dancing of the fire all over his body. One thing was certain: he was _livid_.

"Muh … Motherfuckers!" he shouted at us.

I made to stand, but Lung hurled fire at us. The force of its hit sent us both flying back a few feet. The fire dissipated after hitting us, so I didn't catch fire again, but it was still quite an impact.

"Cock. Suckers," Lung growled as he stalked toward us, limping slightly, a hand over his eye. "Move. Give me something to aim for."

 _Oh, I'll give you something to aim for,_ I thought.

Forming another knife in one of my hands, this one smaller and smoother, I stood up and, making the calculations in my head, hurled it at him. It spun through the air for a few seconds before hitting right where I had needed it to: the hand that was covering his eye. It was one of the lighter-scaled areas of his body, so the knife went through easily enough and right into his eyeball.

I have never heard a more satisfying shout of pain before.

I was grinning savagely behind my mask.

And then a massive four-legged creature tackled Lung. It had exposed muscles and bone where there ought to have been skin and was about the size of the average van. Lung was driven to his knees, holding back the creature to the best of his ability despite almost definitely being unable to see it.

The creature seemed to release him. It took a few steps back, charged at him, and they both ended up flying off the roof, hitting the ground below with an audible _crack_!

"… What the hell just happened?" I asked.

"S-Search me," said bug-girl. She was shaking a bit. Clearly a newbie.

Two impacts on the roof dragged my attention to the far side, where two more of those creatures had just landed. These two had riders, two on each. It looked pretty evenly-gendered. They dismounted. The tallest of the four – one of the men – approached bug-girl and me. I formed a pair of small knives in my hands and steeled myself to fight again if I had to.

"You two really saved us a lot of trouble," the one who approached us said. His costume was basically biker leathers and a bike helmet. The full-face visor of the helmet was made to look like a stylised skull. He held out a hand toward the two of us.

I didn't shake it out of wariness. Bug-girl almost seemed to flinch at it.

The biker guy withdrew his offered hand when he saw he wasn't going to get anywhere. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked. We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day. We eventually decided, fuck it, we'd meet him halfway. Wing it. Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah."

 _So I was right,_ I thought, narrowing my eyes under my mask. _Lung was going after another gang of supervillains._

One of the others whistled, and the creatures they'd been riding leapt off the roof to go and join their mate in attacking Lung.

The biker guy continued, "Wouldn't you know, his flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of his gang are nowhere to be found." He laughed. "Lee's no slouch in a fight, but there's a reason he's not leader of the ABB. He got spooked without his boss there and ran. I guess you guys are responsible for that?"

"More her than me," I said. "She got it started, I just helped when Lung got pissed off."

The biker guy looked over the edge of the roof. "Lung is getting creamed. The fuck you do to him?"

"Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants, spider bites, and three stab wounds, one to the arm, one to the hand, and one to the eye," said one of the girls. She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue and her dark blond hair was long and windblown. She gave a grin that I didn't much care for. "He's not holding up too well. Gonna feel a helluva lot worse tomorrow."

"Introductions," said the biker guy. "That's Tattletale. I'm Grue. The girl with the dogs," he pointed at the other girl, whose only attempt to disguise her identity was a cheap Rottweiler mask, "we call her Bitch, her preference, but in the interests of being PG, the good guys and media decided to call her Hellhound instead. Last and certainly least, we have Regent."

"Fuck you, Grue," said Regent, chuckling. He was wearing a white mask like the sort of thing you'd get at a fancy party. He had a silver coronet around his short black hair and a ruffled white shirt and tight leggings tucked into high boots.

Neither bug-girl nor I introduced ourselves in return.

"Hey, you okay?" Grue asked us. "You hurt?"

For my part, I wasn't answering because I didn't quite trust these people not to attack us any second. I was on edge. I was ready to fight at the first signs of aggression from any of them.

"That's not why they're not answering," said Tattletale. "She's shy, and he's about ready to rip us to shreds if we decide to attack them." She gave off the impression that she'd say more, but stopped herself and said something else instead. "Heads up. We've gotta scram."

Bitch nodded and whistled. The three creatures which they'd called dogs climbed back up onto the building with us."

"You two want a ride?" Grue asked us.

"Not on your life," I said in an instant.

Bug-girl just shook her head.

Grue shrugged.

"Hey," said Tattletale. "What're your names?"

"I don't … I haven't picked one yet," said bug-girl.

I considered just brushing the question off. But then I really thought about it. Would they tell everyone about the two who defeated Lung? I found myself hoping so. Yes, bug-girl had done more than me, but anything that led to people being intimidated by me on the criminal side of things was a positive in my books. "Lochóros," I said after a brief silence.

"The hell does that mean?" asked Regent.

"It's a combination of words," said Tattletale. "Chóros is the Greek word for space and Locus is the Latin word for space. It's because of those knives he's holding. He makes things out of the space around him."

I raised both my eyebrows underneath my mask. Tattletale was definitely a Thinker. That would make her quite an asset to her team.

"Well, Bug, Lochóros," said Tattletale, "a Cape is gonna show up in less than a minute. You did us a solid by taking care of Lung, so take my advice. Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they're not going to let one walk away. You should get out of here." She smiled – it showed the same vulpine, almost predatory grin she'd had on her face before.

The group then bounded away on the "dogs."

 _I guess someone did call the Protectorate, after all,_ I mused. _Well, maybe not_ everyone _around here is an idiot or an asshole._

I was pleasantly surprised.

"Was she right?" Bug asked, quietly but curiously.

"Hmm?"

"About why you chose your name."

"Yes."

She went quiet.

The silence was once more interrupted moments later by the sound of an approaching motorbike. The bike stopped just beside the building we were on, near where Lung was likely still lying. A moment later, the superhero grappled up to us. It was Armsmaster. His easily-recognised costume was a set of midnight-blue powered armour with silver highlights and a helmet with a visor that covered his eyes and nose. The bottom half of his face was left in the open, revealing a neatly-trimmed beard. He was holding _Halberd_ , his Tinker-built mechanical spear which had an axe-head on the end.

He looked exactly like what the term "superhero" normally brought to mind.

"You gonna fight me?" he asked us.

"Hadn't planned on it," I said.

"We're good guys," said Bug.

I raised an eyebrow. She was closer to right than she was to wrong, but still, it was a hell of an assumption to make that I was on the same side.

Armsmaster stepped closer. "You don't look like good guys."

"That's … not intentional," said Bug. "I was more than halfway done putting the costume together when I realised it was already looking more edgy than I'd intended, and I couldn't do anything about it by then."

"Look's only temporary," I said. "Working on something else."

"You're telling the truth," said Armsmaster. "You need a hospital?"

"Burns didn't get through the clothes," I said.

"Don't think so," said Bug. "I'm as surprised as you are."

"You two are new faces."

"I haven't even come up with a name yet," said Bug. "You know how hard it is to come up with a bug-themed name that doesn't make me sound like a supervillain or a complete dork?"

Armsmaster chuckled. "I wouldn't know. I got into the game early enough that I didn't have to worry about missing out on all the good names." He looked at me. "How about you, Slender Man?"

"Don't even think about telling people that's what I'm called," I said. "The name's Lochóros."

There was a pause.

"We could've died," said Bug. She sounded awkward, so I took it that she was simply trying to break the silence.

"That's why we have the Ward program," said Armsmaster.

"I don't want any part of the Protectorate," I said flatly. "You can't look at that many Parahumans in one group and tell me that none of them has ulterior motives for being there. Wards are probably worse. Bunch of hormonal teenagers with superpowers – might as well advertise it as 'super fights and super fucks.' Thanks, but no thanks. Even if I joined you, I doubt I'd get along well."

"You're a blunt little bastard, aren't you?"

The strange thing about Armsmaster's response was that there was no actual annoyance in there. I expected an argument or something, but all I got was acceptance and a deadpan question. I tilted my head to the side slightly, humming.

"You get Lung?" asked Bug.

"Lung was unconscious, beaten and battered when I arrived," said Armsmaster. "I pumped him full of tranquillizers to be safe and temporarily restrained him under a steel cage I welded to the sidewalk. I'll pick him up on my way back."

"Good. With him in jail, I'll feel like I accomplished something today. Only reason I started the fight was because I overheard him telling his men to shoot some kids. Only realised later that he was talking about some other villains."

"I had a hunch he was talking about another gang," I admitted, "but I couldn't risk it."

Armsmaster looked at us, so we elaborated. Bug did most of the talking, but I gave my input every now and then. I'm not a big talker.

"These guys," said Armsmaster when we finished. "They knew I was coming?"

Bug and I both nodded.

"That explains a lot. They're slippery. On those few occasions we do manage to get in a toe to toe fight with them, they either win, or they get away more or less unscathed, or both. We know so little about them. Grue and Hellhound were working on their own before they joined the group, so there's some information there, but the other two? They're nonentities. If the girl Tattletale has some way of detecting or tracking us, it would go a long way towards explaining why they're doing as well as they are."

"Tattletale's a Thinker," I said. Armsmaster looked at me. "She knew why I chose my name the second I told her what it was. Even figured out what my powers are. Some sort of ability that improves her deductive reasoning, I assume. But definitely a Thinker."

"That might explain some of it," said Armsmaster.

"It's funny," said Bug. "They didn't seem that hardcore. Grue said they were kind of panicking when they heard Lung was coming after them, and they were casually joking around while the fight was going on. Grue was making fun of Regent."

"They said all this in front of you?"

Bug shrugged. "I think they thought we were helping them out. The way Tattletale talked, I think she thought we were bad guys, too, or something. Dunno, I guess it was the costumes that led them to that assumption."

"Could you have taken them in a fight?"

"Not with all of them here," I said. "One on one? Maybe. Don't know their powers, so hard to say. Tattletale, definitely. Seems like she's the brains rather than the brawn. Bitch, possibly, but those big dogs of hers would be a problem."

"I think you mean Hellhound," Armsmaster tried to correct me.

"I'm not like you. Keeping things PG isn't a priority for me."

"I think Hellhound could have kicked my ass on her own," said Bug. "So no, I probably couldn't have fought them."

"Then count it as a good thing they got the wrong impression," said Armsmaster.

"I'll try to look at it that way," said Bug.

"That a girl. And while we're looking forward, we need to decide where we go from here. Who gets the credit for Lung?"

"Not interested in credit," I said. "Just glad the fucker's off the streets."

"Fair enough. What about you, little bug? Hear me out. What you've done tonight is spectacular. You played a major part in getting a major villain into custody. You just need to consider the consequences."

"Consequences," Bug muttered.

"Lung has an extensive gang throughout Brockton Bay and neighbouring cities. More than that, he has two superpowered flunkies. Oni Lee and Bakuda."

Bug shook her head. "I know about Oni Lee, and Grue mentioned fighting him. I've never heard of Bakuda."

"Neither have I," I said.

My research on the gangs of Brockton Bay had led me to the knowledge that Oni Lee is an exceedingly violent sociopath whose power is sort of a mix of teleportation and self-cloning. When he teleports, he creates a new body somewhere else and leaves his original body where it was, where it can remain active for five to ten seconds before disintegrating. He's been known to use this ability to act as a suicide bomber. He would prove to be difficult if I encountered him, but I was sure I could handle it.

This "Bakuda," however, was a new name to me.

"Not surprising," said Armsmaster. "She's new. What we know about her is limited. She made her first appearance and demonstration of her powers by way of a drawn-out terrorism campaign against Cornell University. Lung apparently recruited her and brought her to Brockton Bay after her plans were foiled by the New York Protectorate. This is … something of a concern."

"What are her powers?" asked Bug.

"Are you aware of the Tinker classification?"

"People with powers that let them create the sort of technology that used to exist only in science fiction," I said. "The most famous Tinker-class Cape operates with the New York Protectorate, I believe. Does different kinds of armour."

"Close enough," said Armsmaster. "It's like you said about Stark and his armour. Most Tinkers have a speciality or a special trick. Something they're particularly good at or something that they can do, which other Tinkers can't. Bakuda's speciality is bombs."

Well, that certainly explained why she was trouble. A Tinker who could build technologically advanced bombs … Yes, indeed, that was a cause for concern.

"Now," Armsmaster turned his attention back to Bug, "I want you to consider the danger involved in taking credit for Lung's capture. Without a doubt, Oni Lee and Bakuda will be looking to accomplish two goals. Freeing their boss and getting vengeance on the ones responsible. I suspect you're now aware … these are scary people. Scarier in some ways than their boss."

"You're saying I shouldn't take the credit," said Bug.

"I'm saying you have two options. Option one is to join the Wards, where you'll have support and protection in the event of an altercation. Option two is to keep your head down. Don't take the credit. Fly under the radar. Like your friend here."

"Under the radar is better for me," I said. "Keep my head down, stay unexpected. Bad guys won't know what they're dealing with." I shrugged.

Bug looked thoughtful for a few moments. "Please keep my involvement in Lung's capture a secret," she said. She sounded very disappointed.

Armsmaster smiled. "I think you'll look back and see this was a smart decision." He started to walk back to the other end of the roof. "You two can call me at PHQ if you're ever in a pinch." He stepped over the edge of the roof and dropped. His motorbike sounded out a few minutes later as he rode off, presumably with Lung in tow. He was probably going to take the credit for capturing Lung himself. Not that I cared.

Though I knew the hidden meaning of _Call me at PHQ if you're ever in a pinch_. Bug and me refusing to take credit for Lung had given him a freebie. He owed us one.

 _Could be useful for the future,_ I thought.

"Eventful night," I said.

"It could've been worse," said Bug.

"Yes." On reflection, I decided this was probably a good place to call it a night. "Be seeing you, Bug. Maybe."

I didn't wait for a response before I slid down a drainpipe and to the ground. Then I stuffed my hands in my pockets and started walking down the road at a brusque pace.

 _Be seeing you._

Those words were more appropriate than I realised. While it would be weeks – maybe even months, I can't quite remember – until I knew it, I would be seeing her in school later.

* * *

 **And that's a wrap for chapter one!**

 **So, how did you lot find it, eh? Yes, the references to Gotham City and Tony Stark are intentional. Like I said, this is a superhero story, so crossovers are pretty easy to do, even though I will have to take some liberties to fit them into the Wormverse. Still, should be fun, eh? I'm looking forward to writing more.**

 **See you next time, Constant Readers!**


End file.
